


Fast Car

by grasping4light (serenamaes)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: #KeithxShiro, Angst, M/M, SHEITH - Freeform, Sheith Quote Week, shiroxkeith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 22:51:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13063833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenamaes/pseuds/grasping4light
Summary: A short for Sheith Quote Week 2017, in which Keith struggles to deal with Shiro's second disappearance, though they can always meet in their dreams.





	Fast Car

**Author's Note:**

  * For [matsuoasuka](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=matsuoasuka).



> Inspired by “Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman

It was all he ever wanted. To be here, even before he knew where here was. 

Sitting under the stars at night had never been so calming, but sitting out in the desert with this older officer, Keith could sit here forever. Out in the desert, looking up at the night sky. 

“We’ll be out there someday,” Shiro smiled, laying back against the hood of the patrol vehicle they borrowed for the evening. Borrow was a term that they would use loosely; it was more like it was their turn on the perimeter, checking for suspicious activity outside the Galaxy Garrison. It was a job both of them took seriously, but this area had the best view, and with the way Keith drove, they would make up the ten slow minutes easily on the way back. 

“You really think so?” Keith asked, reclining back against the hood. It was still hot from racing down the dirt roads a few moments earlier; it was a nice contrast to the chill night air. “I know we’re flying a little more every day, but they hardly let us get off the ground at the academy.” He closed his eyes, “It gets boring.” 

“I’m glad you feel comfortable speaking frankly with me,” Shiro laughed, glancing over at the young cadet. “But trust me,” his attention shifted back to the sky, upward, where he was always looking. “We’ll get there soon.” 

“You might,” the boy grinned, looking over at his superior. “With that big assignment.” It was hard to look up from the man he respected, but he gave in slowly, the shimmering sky pulling his eyes upward. “Kerberos?” 

“You know I can’t tell you,” Shiro grunted, sliding off the hood, dusting off his fatigues. “It’s classified.” 

“I know, but,” Keith sat up and looked over at Shiro. “You can trust me.” 

The wind kicked up a small swirl of dust, scattering loose gravel across the dirt road. But Shiro smiled as he tossed Keith the keys. “C’mon rookie,” he smirked. “Get us back before curfew.” 

It was the only affirmation he needed as the keys clanked against his palm. “Yes, sir.” 

. . . 

How long had it been? That felt like ages ago. Before it all happened. Before it went red. Before Shiro came back to him. Before he went missing. 

Again. 

How could this have happened? He was right there, in his sights. And then . . . 

Keith growled as he kicked the hangar door. The others had left a few moments earlier, realizing there was nothing they could do to ease his hurt; the cut was too deep. Shiro was gone, and this time, there was something he could have done to stop it.   
But that wouldn’t change it now. 

Each day was more and more difficult to bear, harder to understand. Everything was a mess without his focus, his patience, and his compassion. Keith could hear his guidance. He could feel his resonance in the Black Lion. But it wasn’t the same. Not without him.

And all he could remember was how empty the Garrison felt with his absence. And that was what the Castle felt like without him here. Empty. 

“Shiro.” Keith sighed, leaning back against the wall. A training bot fizzled in front of him, exhausting his frustration for the moment after another fruitless day of searching. “Where the hell are you?!” 

He has asked the same question however many years ago. It couldn’t have been that long, but it felt like decades. 

Now, when he looked up, he couldn’t see the stars. It was only the gridded ceiling of the training hall. And he didn’t want to look outside. He didn’t want to see the stars, not now. 

Shiro wouldn’t be looking up at them with him. Not this time. 

But he stopped himself, calling to the computer to send a stronger rival, and he stayed there for a few more hours, fending off the negativity that was building. He had to be patient. He had to focus. At least this time, and it wasn’t like him to lose hope. Not this easily. 

The others were asleep by the time he returned to his quarters, but he didn’t care as he threw his boots and jacket at the wall, flopping on the bed in his clothes. He didn’t care about changing, that could wait until later. Until he had some time to think. 

But sleep tugged at his senses, and before he knew it, he was looking up at the sky. And this time, Shiro was right beside him, holding the keys to that beaten up patrol vehicle. 

“Keith?” The man asked, walking over toward him. “Keith,” he placed a hand on his shoulder. 

It was warm, just like it was then. “Yeah?” 

“Are you okay?” 

And as he turned around, he could see him. Before the scar. Before stress aged him. His hair was still jet black, without the white fringe. And He couldn’t help himself. Keith caressed Shiro’s face with his hands, and moved closer. “I’m fine,” He breathed, looking into those dark brown eyes. “Now that you’re here.” 

The older pilot leaned into the warmth, closing his eyes. “I’ve been here the whole time,” he laughed, cracking an eye open to observe Keith’s reaction. “I’m thinking the adrenaline went to your head.” 

And as he leaned in to catch those smug lips in his own, Keith’s eyes fluttered open, and his breath caught in his chest. 

“Shiro,” his eyes watered. “Where are you?” He bit his lip and choked back a sob. 

But somewhere in the galaxy, a brave warrior began to stir from his sleep. A tug at his heartstrings calling him in the distance. 

“I’m here.” He thought to himself, his eyelids fluttering to a close. “I’m here.”


End file.
